There was a turtle nest on the beach near our beach cottage and over the past 58 days we've watched it, kept curious grandkids from exploring it and distracted the grand-dogs so they wouldn't realize it was there. I hoped it would hatch while everyone was there but when they left on Sunday afternoon, nothing was happening. One last look at 8pm on Sunday night confirmed there was still no baby turtle activity and it was time to drive home to prepare for the week ahead. There's nothing like being anxious to witness a turtle hatch and then being an hour into a trip home to make the stars align. On the bridge over the Trent and Neuse Rivers in New Bern, almost halfway home, we received the call.

"There's an indention in the nest and we think they'll be born tonight!" What else could we do but turn around to see this miracle of nature? By the time we arrived back to the beach, the sun had set and all activity had ceased and the turtle volunteers said it was a false alarm. As disappointing as that was, they were also very concerned because of the impending storm, which could cause a very high tide dooming the close-to-being-born baby turtles to death by drowning. I couldn't understand how a turtle in a shell could drown but they said it happens all the time.

Apprehensive, excited and not wanting to miss a possible hatching, we decided to cancel a 2nd trip home and spend the night at the beach. We slept anxiously, worried about the turtles and the storm. At 12:30am the call came that something was happening. Hair askew and in our pajamas, Susan and I hustled down to the dark, moonless beach and arrived just in time to see 107 baby loggerheads appear out of the sand and scamble out of the nest - all flailing flippers and tiny, dark turtle shells. It was a sight to behold - and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see the sand boiling like water on high heat as the babies rapidly scrambled out of the sandy nest and straight into the nearby ocean, leaving tiny tracks in the sand and also covering their dark shells in white sand as they scampered along. The closer to the ocean, the more sand that was on their shells and the harder they were to see but as soon as they were in the water, the sand washed off their shells and they reappeared - ready for the long swim to the Gulf Stream.

I counted 107 turtles who made it to the surf but number 59 kept coming back to shore. He was small and maybe his Gulf Stream radar was broken because he was placed in an ordinary plastic kid's sand bucket for transport to the NC Aquarium where he'll be checked. Assuming everything is OK, he'll be placed on the beach to make his trek to the ocean tonight or tomorrow night. His journey will start a few days behind his siblings.

Normally the volunteers have to wait three days, but with permission from the State of NC because of the storm, they excavated (a/k/a dug up) the nest the next morning and found another 21 baby loggerheads that had hatched but were unable to make it to the top of the sand. Without the volunteer's help, they would have drowned in the storm's high tide. Instead, they are now also on their way to their new home in the Gulf Stream. The turtles hatched at night and photography wasn't allowed because it can disorient the hatchlings, but I've found these pictures on the web which was very similar to what I saw with the baby turtles and how it all started with the mother.

If I'm lucky, maybe I'll be around when one female from this group of hatchlings makes it back to our beach to lay her eggs in 30 years - the amount of time it takes a female turtle to reach the age of reproduction. Not many Loggerheads make it to this age but if they do, normally they return to the beach where they were born so I hope to be there in 2047 to watch this happen and if not, that one of my children or grandchildren will be at the same beach to do the honors. Perhaps the circle of life for humans and turtles isn't so different.